Traitor's Bloodline: Eternal Damnation -Vergil D2 Arc-
by Demons Anarchy of Pride
Summary: Vergil is no longer the power-hungry fool he used to be. He's slowly begun to accept love, and finally earns a chance at redemption. After having been given a task by Seraph Lemington, Vergil hides his identity, and delves into the Netherworld once more, with the intention of reuniting with a certain demon... but can he keep the darkness within at bay? -Part 4 of Eternal Damnation-


**Author's notes:** I think that this is the only story that does not come directly from its original owner, despite it being a sequel to its prequel. Anyway, as the name implies, it takes place during the events of Disgaea D2: A Brighter Darkness, with the official pairings being LaharlXFlonne and VergilXEtna! This also takes place after the events of DMC1, sometime after the defeat of Neo Angelo. Here's hoping it goes well!

**The Traitor's Bloodline: Vergil Arc D2**

_Prologue: Descent into the Black_

Vergil felt nothing, no feeling in him as he walked the land in this wretched form. How long had he been wondering here? Twenty years? Two hundred? He had lost count, being in both this demonic visage he disgusted so much and the black void he wandered through eternally.

He looked at himself again for what seemed like the hundredth time. His hands, his feet- every single piece of his body was covered in armor, ebon with dark blue, a tattered dark purple cape resting over his shoulders, and a horned helmet over his face. His Yamato, the only keepsake of his father, turned into an oversized claymore, no longer fit to be wield anymore. He cursed Mundus again for shaping him into this creature, this... abomination. Truth there was, in this form he was far stronger than he ever was, faster and deadlier, but it went against everything he stood for.

As he looked around, he saw the remains of shattered ruins, a place he remembered all to well. The Room of the Fallen Ones, a place of eternal damnation, one could say. It was where he fell to, after being defeated by his brother, the one so much stronger than him. Still, Vergil couldn't help but smile knowing his brother was finally accepting their heritage.

Continuing to walk forward, Vergil thought back to his years in pursuit of power, the days he spent in the Netherworld. Several faces ran in his head. His godfather, his father's best friend, and the man he thought to be like a second father. Laharl, his younger brother of sorts, who aspired to one day be like him, and take over his father's place as Overlord. And, of course, the one person he knew he wouldn't be able to face again...

'_Etna...'_ his thoughts mumbled. Mundus had suppressed his emotions, stripped him of feeling, of being able to speak, and of his free will. The Demon Lord took it all, and now he could no longer speak the name of the demon girl he grew fond of. He wondered what it was, this feeling that brewed inside of him during their time together. He recalled how he thought of her as he fell from the waterfall within the demon world when he and Dante met during the events that transpired in Temen-ni-gru, questioning himself why he felt so pained when her face entered his thoughts. He thought it to be love, and denied it. Love was what killed his mother, and love was what made his father weak. If that was truly what it was, then he knew why he had lost to Dante, at least when he appeared in this accursed form. He didn't recognize his brother at first, the memories of his old life taken from him as well, but when his eyes lay on the pendant around Dante's neck, he remembered everything...

Deciding to rest, Vergil placed his back against a broken pillar and slumped to the ground, bowing his head and closing his eyes, the dark glow from the holes on the faceplate vanished. _'Will I ever escape this place...?'_ Vergil thought to himself, questioning his place here. _'Am I fated to stay here? Hah, of course I am. I lost everything when I was foolhardy. Father, Mother... you would be ashamed of me, especially in this damned form Mundus has trapped me in.'_

"**You're right, they would be..."** Vergil's eyes opened immediately, his head shooting up to see what could only be described as a phantom of a man, or rather, a ghostly double of himself. While Vergil, who once donned a knee-length blue coat with black slacks, leather brown boots, and a thick sleeveless undershirt, the phantom had pale skin, wearing a similar coat except dark purple, frills along the collar of the coat, and a white buttoned shirt beneath, along with black slacks carrying strange glyphs, even down to the black boots. His eyes were black with black veins along the neck, and reaching up to the chin. His whole body was cloaked in a dark mist, like a demonic aura. **"After all, they're prized baby boy was forced to serve the man that killed their own mother, and father no less."** the ghostly apparition said darkly, smiling while his black eyes remained on the armored Vergil. **"You're brother beat you, you always were so weak compared to him. Even with this new power, which you deny so fiercely, you still lost. You're weak, and there's nothing else to it. You're a prisoner here, and will remain as such... But what would you do, if you were given a second chance?"**

Vergil stood up, facing the phantom and extending his hand outward. _"Awaken, Yamato..."_ the cold, emotionless voice of that of Vergil echoed from the hollowed body, and emerging from his hand was a large claymore, easily matching his height. The phantom seemed amused by this, however he didn't move an inch or showed any fear. If he did, he was good at hiding it.

"**No need to resort to violence now, unless you don't want to escape."** the phantom chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest with a finger near his chin, those black, inhuman eyes staring back at the glowing eyes from beneath the armored head. **"I'm offering you a way out, a chance to get back what you've lost. You could continue seeking power, but it won't do you any good. You will never be half the man that Sparda was, and you know it. But you could become so much more... All you need..."**

Suddenly, in the blink of an eye, the phantom was now directly in front of Vergil, his hand over the metal skull with the white, bony fingers digging in. Vergil groaned in pain, feeling his strength ebbing away from him, the claymore clattering to the ground as his knees buckled, falling down beside his weapon. **"Is to discard that human self of yours."** Vergil could feel something creep its way into him, darkness was beginning to dig itself into his being, corrupting his already tainted soul. **"Rip out you're heart... and become a **_**demon**_**!"**

Vergil wanted it to stop, the pain beginning to become unbearable. The armor was cracking, bits of it falling to the ground and was burned away by a purplish blue flame, the same flames that called forth his Summoned Swords. The phantom's smile grew even wider once Vergil's eyes were rolling to the back of his head. Everything was growing darker, world becoming black as night.

However, just as he was losing consciousness, a single, shining light broke through it all. The phantom hissed and jumped away, removing his hand in the process. Vergil felt the pain break away immediately, his body landing on all fours. The red water splashed away at his face, once hidden by the armor. He felt the cold wind rasping against his face, his breath ragged.

Now he could see himself, and the sight had shaken him. His eyes, once steely blue, were dark, almost completely black, his skin was pale, and dark veins along his neck. He looked like a near perfect double to the phantom in front of him. And while on the subject, Vergil looked up to see the phantom growling, its features scrunching up with its eyes flaring in hate. "I'm afraid that you will not be taking anyone this day, False Angel." Vergil looked to his side to see what he thought to be an angel.

It was a man, early thirties dressed in a light, green tunic with light sleeves and long dark hair reaching past his shoulders, his eyes however remained closed. However, upon closer inspection, Vergil's thoughts were indeed correct, as two white wings were planted on his back. "Take any form you wish, you shall not leave this prison." the man stated calmly while the phantom growled.

"**You interfere **_**still**_**?!"** the phantom howled in anger, swiping its arms in fury. **"Damnable angels, you're all the same!"**

The man said nothing before placing his hand on Vergil's shoulder, and before the man could even blink, he found himself bathed in light. The Room of the Fallen Ones was gone, instead what he saw was what could be called a paradise, or the inner sanctum of a church, whichever it was, the child of Sparda was more than happy to see it.

The space was white, two fountains of crystalline water with a field of green spreading past the columns, and patches of white across from them. In the center of the room was a statue of some kind of angel, it didn't carry a face, but at its back were twelve wings, its wrists bound in golden bracelets, and shattered links dangling down.

"W-what..." Vergil gasped, touching his throat and realizing that he could speak again. He looked down at himself, the armor was now gone. His skin had regained its former complexion, and wore his former attire, except his blue coat was gone.

"I apologize for the delay, son of Sparda." Vergil looked at the man, who carried a kind, yet apologetic smile on his face. "Reaching a realm governed by Mundus is not easy, not even for a Seraph such as me."

"Y-your a Seraph?" Vergil questioned, looking around before realizing where he was. The air was crisp and clean, and even more so he felt no infernal energy from this place. It was not the human world, but it was not the Netherworld either. "Then, is this Heaven?"

"In a way, yes." the angel nodded. "But we call it by another name. Celestia."

"And why have I been brought here?" Vergil asked, standing up on shaky legs. "Not to sound ungrateful or anything, but what I have been doing since before coming under Mundus' service has not been exactly worthy of coming here."

"Ah, truer words indeed, but they have little meaning. Allow me to introduce myself formally. I am Lemington, the Seraph here in Celestia." the angel bowed humbly, as though showing respect. "Normally, I would not go to the realm of Mundus, however you are... an exception, and possibly what we need to preserve order."

"Order?" Vergil scoffed. "Angel, I have killed humans and demons alike. I betrayed my own brother to become far stronger than I once was. I had even resurrected Temen-ni-gru and opened the doorway to the demon world! And yet you save me from that place, in hopes that I will help maintain order in hopes of preserving it when I've destroyed it once already?"

Lemington smiled thinly. "Indeed, as normally, no one would be able to deal with this sort of thing. However, you are not 'no one', you are a child of the Dark Knight. Vergil, I am here to ask you for your assistance in helping Celestia save the Netherworld."

Vergil had gone completely dead right then and there. Either he had spent too much time in the Room of the Fallen Ones, or had he just heard an angel, a Seraph at that, just ask him to _save_ the Netherworld? "You see, someone has been threatening the Netherworld, and though we have not learned the means, Celestia is influencing its current state."

"And why does someone such as you wish to save the Netherworld?" Vergil questioned in curiosity. "I thought angels smite demons first and ask questions later, not try and save their enemy."

"Hah, you are correct on that one." Lemington chuckled. "However, since the current Overlord Laharl took in the Fallen Angel Flonne, we have had many changes of heart around here."

Vergil's eyes widened. _'Laharl has become the Overlord?'_ he thought, both in pride of his surrogate younger brother and in shock. _'Exactly how long have I been under Mundus' spell?'_

"Ever since then, Celestia and the Netherworld have begun interacting with one another, however now that someone has begun absorbing mana in the Netherworld, they've begun using angels from Celestia to keep order in the Netherworld... by transferring their own mana into the Netherworld itself. And, worse than that..."

"The Netherworld is turning into Celestia." Vergil finished, letting the knowledge sink in while he nodded in understanding, crossing his arms over his chest. "So, in return for pulling me out of that place, you want my help?"

"Indeed, however that is only if you wish to aid us." Lemington nodded in response. "I will understand if you wish to roam freely rather than be a mere servant to us. After all, serving under Mundus has made you wish to no longer be a puppet to us." Vergil mentally smiled at the angel's understanding. He was a good choice for a Seraph, if he quickly grasped the pros and cons of something. "However, the corruption inside you won't disappear over time. The False Angel will come for you again, except in many other visages."

"You mean that ghostly double of mine?" he asked in interest.

"His name is Kazfiel, one who lies and spreads darkness in people's hearts. He taints those with human hearts, hoping to turn them into demons. Since your heart was weak at the time, Kazfiel believed he could corrupt it further, and use you. If you wish to aid Celestia, I can purge that darkness, however the power you gained from Mundus will not fade. It is apart of you. In a sense, Kazfiel represents it, a part of all darkness within people's hearts, whether they be human or demon."

Vergil nodded before closing his eyes and extending his hand outward. "Awaken, Yamato." With those words, Vergil felt a familiar presence welcome him in his hand as a beautiful katana appeared in his hand, hidden in a white sheath. Back in the armor, it was a large claymore, however now it was once again his father's memento. However, he felt the darkness within it, the sword was covered in a hazy purple aura, the same one that surrounded him when he was Neo Angelo.

"As you can see, Mundus' influence seeps even into your father's blade. I will ask you but only once, Vergil. Will you help Celestia in restoring the Netherworld back to its former splendor?"

Vergil was quiet as he recalled Yamato back within him, slipping his hands into his slacks before opening his eyes, a small smirk on his face. "Get rid of this darkness first, and you have a deal."

Lemington smiled, about to extend his hand when he heard a loud, yet obnoxious laugh. "See?! I told you the boy would accept! Did you believe me? No, you didn't! You owe me quite a lot of HL, Lemington!"

Appearing from behind a pillar was a tall, lean man dressed in a rather exotic manner. His purple hair extended past his shoulders, dressed in a black jacket with a rose on the back, along with black slacks. Lemington sighed, shaking his head. "Honestly, Vyres. Must you be so loud?" he asked questionably. "I was in the middle of something, you know."

Vergil frowned, ignoring the angel's remark. This man seemed awfully familiar, and judging from his earlier statement, he seemed to know Vergil from somewhere. That purple hair of his... why did it seem familiar to him? "Ah, Vergil! Long time no see, my boy!" the man said haughtily as he gripped the younger man's shoulders. "Look at you, the spitting image of your father! I've said it before, and I will say it again! I can hardly tell the two of you apart!"

Vergil's frown deepened for one second before his eyes widened in realization, and then a groan escaped his mouth, a hand sliding down his face. "Please, for the love of all things holy and unholy... Don't tell that's you, Krichevskoy..."

Vyres smiled widely as he jumped back, getting ready for some kind of pose. "Ah, once I was! But now, I have been reborn as the Dark Adonis, V-"

"Mid-boss." Lemington interrupted, a grin on his face as Vyres face-faulted.

"No, no, NO! How many times must I tell you? I am not a mid-boss!" the man said, obviously annoyed. "Its bad enough my own son calls me that! Why couldn't he be more like Sicily? She knows how to treat me with respect!"

Vergil sweat dropped before looking at Lemington. "A long story, one of which I have told far too many times. Now then, please, hold still."

Vergil complied, however he soon found it hard to do so as a searing pain etched into his being, his body becoming encased in a white haze which vanished no sooner than it had appeared. He fell to his knees, steam lifting off of his body. Vergil wanted to curse the Seraph, but then he felt it. The darkness, the poison that Mundus has trapped inside of him, was gone. He could hardly feel it at all.

"I apologize if that has caused you discomfort." Lemington said apologetically before turning to Vyres, who stood in both silence and worry at his godson's condition. Vergil was on all fours, panting heavily as he tried in vain to stand. Ridding his body of Mundus' corruption was not an easy task, even for a Seraph as skilled as Lemington. However, this was not what worried the former Overlord. Lemington was holding the darkness at bay, long enough for Vergil to triumph over it and reclaim his former powers, and gain new ones in the process.

Vergil slowed his breathing as he stood on shaky legs, a hand over his chest. His hair was now down, making him look like a near perfect double to that of his brother Dante, the only difference was the pale skin. Perhaps it would be better this way, he thought to himself. "Well... You've honored your end of the bargain..." he said slowly, albeit panting. "Now... its time... to uphold my end."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in the Netherworld, or to be more specific the Overlord's Castle, a young man sitting atop a throne was beginning to grow impatient. He was short, and looked like a child, with short purple hair that had two long strands resembling antennae going back, his only pieces of clothing being red jeans, gloves, and a red scarf. His eyes were deep crimson, while resting at the side of the throne was a blade, as long as he was with a hollowed out portion near the dull edge.<p>

Laharl growled in frustration, remembering the disrespect that golden gargoyle had shown him. He was the Overlord dammit, not a child! He was seriously angry, as he worked long and hard to achieve the status, and even more so, he won it by the true means of the Netherworld, strength! "Might controls everything," his surrogate older brother once told him before departing. "And without power, you can't protect anyone, let alone protect yourself." Those words had practically lit the fuel in his fire, and strove to become Overlord. And now he achieved the position...

Yet some demons didn't think so, the first being that gargoyle named Grosso. He barely recalled the demon. If he remembered right, the demon bastard said that he was one of his father's vassals, right? "They respect my old man more than they do me..." Laharl groaned as he lifted himself up from his throne. His scarf moved about on its own and grabbed the blade, which then handed it over to its owner. "Might as well talk to the Gate Keeper and see if Etna's made progress in finding that son of a..."

Exiting the throne room, Laharl entered the main area of the castle. The throne room, along with the demon dojo, was located on the second floor, while the flower garden Flonne had made, completely pointless in Laharl's opinion, and library were on the first floor. Standing around were several demons, some Prinnies, and even a few warriors and valkyries, along with the mages and healers. Sitting at a bench was a blonde haired girl with crimson eyes and a flowing white dress, two sharp molars poking out from the corners of her mouth, and a tipped tail poking out. "Ah, Laharl!" the girl said, running over to him with both the usual innocent look and surprise. "You won't believe this!"

"Something tells me its going to be some stupid lecture on love..." Laharl groaned. He hated love, something that had actually put him on very good terms with Vergil, as he was in complete agreement. To Laharl, it just slowed you down, made you think like a weak human. To Vergil, it was a weakness that crippled you, made you weak, and would eventually be the death of you. While their views on it were different, they both hated it.

The girl, Flonne, shook her head fiercely and balled her fists, wailing her arms around wildly. "No, this is something else! Someone has been taking out demons left and right! And even more so, they say they're a half-breed!"

That had piqued Laharl's interest, as he felt curiosity starting to brew. Half-breeds weren't exactly well-liked in the Netherworld, as they were sometimes seen as a stain on the Netherworld, disgusting creatures, or even a plague that had to be destroyed. The only half-breed Laharl met was Vergil, his surrogate brother, but if this guy was equally as skilled...

"Where's he at?" Laharl asked at last, a smile that spelled trouble for the one taking out demons in the future. "I want to see how strong this guy is for myself!"

"Why's that?" Flonne asked curiously. It was rather rare for the demon prince/Overlord to be so worked up over something like this, and excited to boot.

"Because!" Laharl said, crossing his arms over his chest while his sword vanished within his scarf. "If this guy is as good as people make him out to be, I just might consider making him one of my personal vassals!"

Of course, that wasn't the only reason. Laharl wanted to become strong, stronger than anyone else in the world. After all, to him, he couldn't really call himself an Overlord until he beat two certain people.

'_Just you wait, you two!'_ Laharl thought, smiling proudly as he thought of two people. One was a dignified young man with white hair swept back, dressed in a blue coat and a katana in hand. The other was the same age, except his white hair was down and parted in the middle, wearing a red knee-length coat with a black vest, and a large claymore on his back. _'I'll catch up to the two of you soon! And once I beat the two of you, I'll finally be able to call myself the Overlord!'_

* * *

><p>At that same time, Grosso, the gold gargoyle demon, as well as the leader of the Krichevskoy Group, was beginning to grow an interest in the one that had begun destroying his comrades. They were weak demons, yet skilled in their own rights. However, some way or another, the one killing them had done so with great ease and elegance, it was almost like watching a dance macabre.<p>

The man was lean and tall, dressed in a ragged and torn brown coat that reached down to his knees, a white shirt beneath with splattered blood of the slain demons, and torn black slacks. His hair was silverish white, hanging off his forehead and hiding his ears. His face was covered in bandages; the only spot where they didn't touch was his left eye, which was colored black. In his hand was a black blade with a ban hilt, along with a crimson and ebon handle and a severed chain at the end. (A/N: Think Tensa Zangetsu from Bleach)

"You're quite skilled, almost too skilled." Grosso noted as the man killed the last demon, slicing open their throat. "You may be a half-breed, but that in itself is an advantage. I have served under a great Overlord to know this."

The man said nothing as he turned to him, his blade aimed at Grosso. "Must you resort to violence, my friend?" Grosso asked, flashing a toothy smile. "We've gotten off to a bad start, so why don't we start over? I am Grosso, leader of the Krichevskoy Group. We could use someone of your talents. In fact, you may be what we need to overthrow that cheeky little brat."

"I refuse." Grosso's eyes widened at the man's declaration. But, there was something else that surprised him. That voice... where had he heard that voice before? "I have heard of what the current Overlord has done to achieve his title."

"And yet you so blatantly refuse to aid us?" the demon asked, completely taken by surprise. "He used brute strength alone to take what was not his! He is not fit to be Overlord!"

Grosso could have sworn he saw a smirk beneath the bandages as the man began to laugh. "You call yourself a demon, but in the end, you are in complete foolishness. There is only one rule in the Netherworld, no matter who or what you are. Gain power, become stronger, and survive to be the last man standing. Might makes right, and strength is true necessity. Laharl is the true Overlord, while you believe in a foolish pipe dream."

That had struck a nerve with Grosso. His plan was to have someone with the same ideals as the late Overlord King Krichevskoy to take the throne, and there were no words that could describe how infuriated he was when Laharl took the throne through sheer force. It was unfitting for an Overlord, and yet the man before him seemed to embrace that ideal completely. "You dare call our goal foolish?" Grosso hissed.

"I do indeed." Before Grosso could even act and kill the foolhardy man, he was interrupted by the sudden toss of a spear. He quickly jumped away, the spear literally shattering the ground with debris shooting everywhere. The gargoyle cursed as he looked at who threw it, and he recognized her immediately.

It was a young girl with short, bat like wings on her back, dressed in a rather skimpy outfit with a small chest, a collar with a circlet dangling, and red hair done in two small pigtails, a mischievous grin on her face as she brought out another spear, the demonic tail flailing around behind her. "Well, looks like I've found you!" Etna said with the intent to kill evident in her voice, after all she was seriously pissed off. She was fine with Grosso destroying the Prince/Overlord's statutes, but when he made it clear to destroy hers as well, well it was safe to say that Grosso would be dead in a mere matter of moments.

"Damn, sharp as ever with that spear of yours, aren't you?" Grosso said, both impressed by her increase of skill and angered by the mysterious man's declaration. "I find it hard to believe that one as loyal to King Krichevskoy such as you would still follow the Prince, Etna."

"Eh, what can I say?" Etna shrugged, jumping down from her vantage point and twirling the spear around before resting it on her shoulder. "I have to make sure the prince doesn't screw up." However, she stopped herself from continuing once she saw the man standing there. "Oh? You the half-breed that's been knocking off the demons around here?"

"And what of it?" the man replied coldly, however Etna frowned. He sounded oddly familiar... Had they met somewhere before? Nah, that's impossible. She would recall meeting a mummy freakshow like him anywhere. "I'll take a guess and say that you're the self-proclaimed Beauty Queen Overlord that serves the current Overlord?"

Etna smiled, blushing slightly as she heard what the man said. "Oh, so someone finally realizes my true value!"

"Like hell you're an Overlord!" Etna sighed as she turned around to see Laharl and Flonne standing nearby, however the younger demon looked interested in the bandaged man. "You're still my vassal, and always will be, status be damned!"

"Way to ruin my parade, Prince." Etna sighed again. Laharl, however, ignored her and focused on the mystery man. "Hey, don't go ignoring me like that!"

"So, you're the half-breed that's been causing a ruckus as of lately?" Laharl asked, jumping down from his vantage point and facing the man. "I heard what you said earlier. So then, you think I'm fit to be Overlord?"

The man harrumphed as he sheathed the blade in a red sheath. "The Netherworld has only one rule: Survival of the fittest. Either you're strong, or you're dead. The title of Overlord belongs to one who embraces that ideal. You gained the title by defeating all that opposed you, and as such, are worthy of being the Overlord."

"You dare speak such blasphemy?" Grosso howled in rage. "Power does not solve everything!"

"So says the man that is trying to overthrow one clearly stronger than him." the bandaged man countered, causing Grosso to flinch, and Laharl to laugh in recognition.

"I like you already! What's your name?" he asked, curious. Laharl was genuinely surprised as he listened to the man's speech. Had he known better, he would say that the man was Vergil, as they both believed strength to be everything.

"Gilver, call me Gilver."

Grosso's eyes narrowed as he morphed his hand into a spear-like fashion, calling forth other demons while Laharl whipped out his blade, and Flonne her staff. The man named Gilver did not unsheathe his sword, but he placed himself into a fighting stance. "It seems that I will have to teach you discipline, boy. Best prepare yourself!"

If only Grosso knew who Gilver was beneath those bandages...

* * *

><p>Back in Celestia, Vyres watched the events unfold from a lakeside, and felt a smile come to his face. "Grosso walked right into his own execution."<p>

"Is Big Brother Vergil really that strong?" the small girl beside him asked. She wore an outfit similar to Flonne's, except hers lacked sleeves, frilled white arm warmers, and had white wings instead of demonic wings. Her hair was short and brown, done in a bowl-shaped manner.

Vyres laughed at her question. "Sicily, Vergil is the son of a man I considered to be like my own brother. And believe me when I say this, there is not a man alive I know that can compare to him. You could ask Laharl the same question, and he would say that even he's no match for Vergil."

"So why is he lying to him?" the girl, Sicily, asked in honesty. "Big Brother looks up to Vergil, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but that's part of the reason why he's under the guise of Gilver. And also, he can't reveal his mission to them, especially not to Etna. After all, he's slowly accepting that one emotion he thought to be a weakness, which is ironic since Laharl has done the same thing."

"Do you think Big Brother Vergil can really save the Netherworld?"

Vyres gave his daughter a large smile as he placed a hand on her head, ruffling her hair. "If anyone can do it, it's him."

End of Prologue

Preview for the Next Episode!

**Etna:** With the appearance of the shocking new cast character, the whole Netherworld is in shock!

**Gilver:** Oh by Baal's rotting corpse...

**Etna: **It turns out that the mysterious masked warrior, Gilver, is actually the Prince's long lost brother!

**Laharl:** Waitwaitwait, what the hell is this?!

**Flonne:** Laharl, I had no idea that you had a brother!

**Laharl:** I don't! ...well, except maybe Vergil, b-but that's beside the point!

**Etna: **Now, with a horde of demons seeking to take his dear brother away from him, Gilver takes up arms and fights the rebellious horde of evildoers!

**Gilver:** Aren't we already doing that?

**Laharl: **I swear, these previews are getting more out of hand by the day!

**Etna: **Will Gilver succeed in protecting the Prince? Or will he abandon him for the cute and totally sexy Beauty Overlord Etna?!

**Gilver:** ...

**Flonne:** Wait, you're blushing?! Ooh, I smell a love triangle!

**Gilver: **And who, pray tell, is my rival in this madness you call a preview?

**Laharl:** Flonne, don't you ****ing dare...

**Etna:** Next time, on the Traitor's Bloodline -Eternal Damnation- Season 4! The Arrival of the Mysterious Angel Girl, Sicily! Tune in next time for a scandalous time!

**Gilver:** Why do I feel like I have a headache...?

A/N: And done! Whoo boy, this was something. Anyway, yeah, he's going by Gilver for the time being, but I do intend for him to reveal his true identity soon enough. The Vergil D2 Arc takes place about half a year after Neo Angelo's defeat, and one year after the events of Disgaea: Hour of Darkness. I also intend on introducing some DLC characters like Gig and Priere, and maybe DmC Vergil while I'm at it. If you guys think I should include either Nephilim Vergil or Nephilim Dante, or better yet both, please express it in your reviews, and ideas for the story as well. And Kazfiel is going to play a major role in the story. He's basically the darkness that lurks within every heart, even Vergil's. He doesn't carry a true form, and takes on a shape suiting the darkness of his current target, hence why he appears as Corrupted Vergil from Devil May Cry 3: Dante's Awakening Special Edition. He's also the embodiment of the darkness that was granted to Vergil by Mundus, so he has the same abilities. Here is Vergil's data for this story, or as he is known for the time being, Gilver.

_Name:_ Gilver

_Title:_ Bandaged Swordsman

_Description:_ An enigma shrouded in mystery. He believes strength can change everything. Passes out from even a sip of alcohol.

_Evilitiy: _Dark Embodiment-Increases stats by 25% per every three units defeated (maximum 200%)

_Skills:_ Black Massacre- Gilver warps using his Dark Slayer style, appearing behind the enemy and proceeds to slash them numerous time, enveloping them in black cuts before reappearing in his original position and sheathing his blade, the cuts exploding in a burst of black smoke. Description: Cold-hearted as he is cunning.

Dance of Ice- Gilver snaps his fingers, and calls forth several blades made of ice that rain upon the enemy until they are frozen solid before the glacier explodes. Description: Looks like Hell has frozen over.

Hollows of Hell- Gilver calls forth Mundus' power, reverting his sword into the claymore, and slams it into the ground, causing bluish purple flames to erupt in a single line, enveloping the enemy completely. Description: He wasn't the Dark Warrior for nothing.

Anyway, please review, and express your thoughts. If you think I can do better, please don't hesitate to tell me. My sister has been working on another fanfic of mine, a Persona 4 adaption called "the factor of hope", book one of three mind you. Writing the others is going to be a pain, but worth it. After all, nothing makes me happier than to see people reading these, even if they hate it :D


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